


Closed Eyes and Open Arms

by voidknight



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Edward Elric Swears, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Identity Issues, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, Loneliness, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, homoerotic swordfights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidknight/pseuds/voidknight
Summary: One night, Ed finds that Ling has managed to stay conscious while Greed sleeps. The two of them have their first truly uninterrupted conversation in a while.Or: it’s hard enough for regular awkward teenagers to deal with their feelings, but add an avaricious homunculus observer to the mix, and things get a lot more complicated.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Ling Yao, Greed (Ling) & Ling Yao
Comments: 36
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> finished fmab recently and MAN it is good. greedling is absolutely one of my favorite characters so! of course i had to write some things about him

Ed, Greed, Darius, and Heinkel are on the move. If things go well, they’ll settle back in Resembool, but for now all they can do is steal like shadows through the backstreets—and, occasionally, take advantage of the kindness of strangers.

And meanwhile, the Promised Day creeps ever closer.

So the quartet find themselves in a tiny hotel at the edge of an Eastern slum. Two rooms are available—the chimeras take the larger one; Ed and Greed settle for the smaller. It’s a cramped thing with windows that look out onto dusty alleyways and scattered garbage bags—windows that Ed is quick to shut as soon as they arrive.

Greed flops down on the leftmost bed and turns to face the wall, away from Ed. It shouldn’t surprise Ed so much that homunculi can still sleep. Do they  _ need _ it, or just pretend to need it? Either way, at least this time, Greed seems to have genuinely knocked himself out. His breathing becomes regular after just a few minutes, and his tense posture relaxes somewhat. A show of vulnerability? No, more likely of arrogance—he’d wake at the slightest hint of danger, shield up and claws out; no one’s going to be killing him in his sleep.

Ed wonders what he’s dreaming of. Does Greed covet his dreaming space as much as he does, well, everything else? Is slumber a material wealth to treasure as much as one’s waking hours? Maybe he dreams up a world where he is the ruler of all; maybe he savors that sort of control.

Or maybe he only sleeps as a courtesy to the boy whose body he forces to stand and walk and run around for hours on end.

It only takes Ed a couple minutes to wash up and get ready for bed himself. It’s nice, admittedly—to have a moment like this, where night holds the world in a standstill. He’s been thinking too much about the future. And the past, too. In his half-lucid thought spirals, Kimblee appears to tell him he’s too soft, Winry yells at him to  _ be more careful, _ Alphonse cries out and hears no echoing answer.

Well. They can all shut up right now. Just for now.

The beds are too close together, Ed thinks as he lays down; it’s a room made for one at the price of two. It reminds him of the rooms he shared with Al, once upon a time. A single strand of moonlight slips through the curtains, a hairline fracture that divides the space between him and the sleeping homunculus who is his friend and not his friend. He’s rather his brother sat across from him now. But he’s too tired to feel bitter about that.

He sleeps for an hour, maybe. Or, “sleeps” is too strong a word—his mind dips in and out of oblivion. His eyes adjust to the shadows in the room. Almost unconsciously, they find Greed’s form—laying on his back, now, eyes tightly shut, arms splayed out beside him. His left hand hangs off the bed, displaying its tattoo.

And after a second, or maybe a couple minutes, or maybe no time at all—

“Ed,” comes a strained voice that is not Greed’s.

Tension rises in Ed’s chest; his heart skips. He raises his head slightly, trying to get a closer look at the body five feet away from him. “Hm? Ling?”

Ling is perfectly motionless. It’s a moment before his lips move again—just his lips. “Yep, it’s me! Funny, isn’t it.”

“How’d you get Greed to give your body back?”

His mouth quirks into a tight smile. “Didn’t. He’s asleep.”

“Asleep? So Homunculi do sleep?”

“When they want to. Greed’s no Sloth, but it’s nice, don’tcha think? Feels good.”

“But you’re awake,” says Ed slowly, puzzle pieces slotting into place to form this bizarre picture. Apparently, even a being stitched together with the most powerful material known to alchemy can have its conscious awareness switched off for a while.

“Mmm. Just about.” He speaks like someone whose face is numb from anaesthetic, and Ed’s suspicions are confirmed when he continues, “And my body follows Greed, right? So it’s asleep too. But I guess I can move my mouth a bit. It’s like a glitch. I don’t think it’s supposed to happen like this.”

“I see.”

Ling attempts a sort of half-laugh. His eyes are still screwed shut, face turned up towards the ceiling. “So I’ve got my head to myself for the first time in… oh, I don’t know. A long time, huh?”

“How is it?” He pauses, then ventures, “Lonely?”

“Ha. Greed’s the lonely one.”

But Ling’s face falls as he says it, and he lets out a breath from lungs that can move only enough to gather the minimum necessary amount of air. And all of a sudden, it strikes Ed how sad the sight is. How, for however much Ling may ramble and joke in the brief moments of agency that Greed affords him, it’s all under the gaze of a ceaseless watcher, ready to snatch back the strings of the puppeteer at a moment’s notice.

“Does he hear all your thoughts?” Ed asks after a pause.

“Sorta. I hear most of his.”

“Oh?”

His curiosity must be evident in his voice, because Ling chuckles again. “Nothing remotely interesting, believe me. All about how much he wants money, or women, or power. Oh, or he teases me about stupid stuff. And sometimes he’s angry. Or sad. About his friends.”

“Friends,” Ed repeats, like the word is new to him.

“Yeah.”

“Are we friends?”

He means to say  _ are we  _ his _ friends, _ but doesn’t correct himself. He’s interested in this answer too.

“Well, yeah.”

Ed recalls how their first meeting resulted in the destruction of a swath of Rush City. He recalls wading through a sea of blood towards an uncertain end. He recalls Ling looking him in the eye and telling him that this is what he wanted—to become a homunculus, to let his Greed take control of him. Would a friend of his make such an idiotic decision?

(Well, that’s nothing new. Ling makes a lot of stupid decisions, and Ed loves and hates him for it.)

He figures that he can’t afford to be picky and choosy about the whole thing. Then again,  _ friends _ is different from  _ allies. _ Whatever the case, he can’t deny that he  _ does _ care about Ling.

Instead of saying anything silly and sappy like that, he puts on a frown and a slightly accusatory tone and says, “Didn’t you do this to yourself? How do you like being a homunculus?”

“Oh, being a homunculus is fine,” replies Ling with all his usual breeziness, strangulated only slightly by his limited muscular facility. “It’s the whole Greed thing I’m not so sure about.”

“Tough price to pay for immortality.”

“Right.” And then a smile. “Hey, Ed. Guess we’re both looking to get our bodies back, aren’t we?”

“It’s not the same thing at all!!” Ed explodes, then goes very silent, as if his shouts will somehow wake Greed. In a stage whisper, he adds, “You’ve  _ got _ your whole body. And you’ve got an ultimate shield and super-strength and all that.”

“And it isn’t  _ mine. _ Not really. You can have something stolen from you and still be able to touch it and feel it.”

“It wasn’t stolen! You gave it to him!”

“Hey, hey, we’ve been over this, okay?” The weariness really seeps into his voice here, and as much as Ed would love to argue about sacrificing humanity for the sake of power and other wonderful things like that, he finds himself unable to reply. Because—sure, if he looks at it from Ling’s perspective? Maybe they’re not so different. Both dabbled in things much too powerful for them, and both paid the price.

And both of them are still fifteen. It’s not something he’s ever really consciously acknowledged, not when Ling’s a good deal taller and Greed carries himself all adult-like, but… that’s right, isn’t it? They’re just teens who are really good at being taken advantage of. Of course, Ed hates to think about himself that way. But he can cut Ling some slack. At least for tonight. He doesn’t want their only interaction while it’s just the two of them to devolve into accusations.

“Is Greed still asleep?” he tries, a minute later.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Eh… I don’t know. It’s not like it’s easy to go ‘oh, my brain-mate’s gone, now it’s time to think about all the stuff I repress when he’s around.’”

Ed is so very tempted to ask  _ like what? _ but something tells him that Ling’s speaking sarcastically. He doesn’t strike Ed as a particularly repressed person. He knows what he wants. That’s why Greed likes him.

“I miss Lan Fan,” says Ling suddenly. Then— “Hmm. I’m just like Greed. I want all my friends to be here.”

“I’m here,” Ed whispers.

Another pause. He doesn’t know what he should do, if he  _ can _ do anything at all. Ling’s body is so still. The strip of moonlight has inched closer to his bed. A line that neither of them could cross, for entirely different reasons.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Maybe Greed will wake any minute. Maybe it’s an inevitability. Or maybe Greed will never wake—maybe the glitch runs that deep—and Ling will be free. Should they celebrate these few precious seconds? How?

“Um, Ed.” Ling’s voice is sheepish, words mumbled even more than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Ah, could you come here for a moment?”

“Why?” But even as he questions it, he slips out of bed and makes his way over to where Ling lays, so very rigid. The floor is cold and hard, as is to be expected from such a dingy hotel. The beds are little more than mattresses on wooden stilts.

Ling grins, as casual as he can muster. “Maybe you were right? I think I am a little lonely.”

No one tells Ed to pull away the covers and slip into bed beside Ling. He doesn’t even really think he’s telling himself to do it—it’s just a sudden instinct, like maybe this is what his friend wants from him, but isn’t rash enough to say aloud. He carefully moves Ling’s arm, which has been sprawling across most of the left side of the bed, and settles down into a comfortable position, drawing the covers over them once again.

It’s not a huge bed. Ed feels his leg touching Ling’s, feels Ling’s limp fingers brush against his waist, but he keeps his eyes focused away from his companion and doesn’t say anything. Pretends he isn’t blushing furiously and wondering why the hell he thought this was a good idea.

But Ling says nothing either, just sighs, perhaps in content.

Is it a gesture of solidarity? Comfort without words?

Agonizing minutes pass, and for a while Ed is filled head to toe with tension, heartbeat going as fast as a train and probably just as loud. He’s terrified that even the slightest shift in position will disturb his bedfellow. But—the awkwardness can’t last forever. And if Ling didn’t want Ed here, he would say something.

He breathes in and out and contemplates the fact that maybe he could fall asleep here, laying on his back like this, still as a statue. It’s… nice. Usually he’s a bit of a hog when it comes to bed space, but… well. Shockingly, a new experience or two is good every now and then.

Maybe he could test this further. See how much contact they can allow themselves. So, cautiously, Ed slips his right hand into Ling’s left, praying that the coldness of the metal won’t be an unwelcome shock.

The person beside him stirs.

Ed all but yelps, retracting his hand as fast as he can. He’s about to stammer some sort of excuse, or possibly an insult—but then a face turns towards him, an expression made with lifted eyebrows, halfway between impressed and unamused.

“Sorry, kid,” says Greed. “He’s not here right now.”

And Ed discovers that his own bed feels a lot colder than it used to be, and he cannot shake the feeling of those purple eyes that shine too bright in the dark room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ling is smitten, Ed is flustered, and Greed is a terrible wingman.

They don’t talk about it, of course. Especially not in the moments when Ed catches Greedling looking at him—not with any specific emotion, more a kind of detached scrutiny, like he’s waiting to see what he’ll do next. Sizing him up. Ed supposes it makes sense. Greed blacked out one day and woke up with a boy in his host body’s bed; if Ling hasn’t explained the incident, it’s only natural for him to be curious.

But meanwhile there are more pressing things to worry about. They’re walking a tricky path—staying hidden, communicating through intermediaries, arguing about theories and plans long into the night. It captures just enough of Ed’s attention to keep his mind off the other night’s peculiar interaction with Ling.

At the same time, Ed finds himself in the habit of watching Greedling right back. The way he moves is uncanny sometimes—Greed fits himself into the new body like a hand into a glove that’s slightly too small, and is just having a grand old time wiggling the fingers about. It doesn’t  _ quite _ fit him, not yet. Ed somehow hopes it never truly fits. That however much Greed tries to make it his own, he’ll never be able to blot out that unmistakable quality that characterizes the presence of its original owner.

Eventually Ed realizes that what he’s  _ really _ doing is less studying Greed’s movements, and more searching for any sign of Ling breaking through. What words will cause his eyes to go wide, irises flickering back for a moment to their original brown? Can he find the weak spots in Greed’s armor?

One night, they’re sitting by a campfire in an alleyway. Heinkel and Darius trade news while Ed keeps watch, staring out into the empty street.

Someone saunters up behind him, and Ed can tell by the footfalls that it’s Greed. What he  _ doesn’t _ expect is for Greed to clap a hand on his shoulder and look down at him with a smirk.

“Hey, Ed,” he begins, and Ed can just  _ tell _ that this is going to be one of those conversations that is lots of fun for Greed and not so fun for the person he’s talking to.

“What.”

“Look. I’m  _ very _ flattered. But it’s just not going to work out between us!”

“What the HELL are you talking about.”

Greed hooks his arm around Ed’s shoulders and leans in all buddy-buddy. “First of all, I’m only into women. Second, you’re a teenager and I’m an ageless demigod. Third, as much fun as it is to have a servant with an unrequited crush on his master—”

“You think I have a crush on you??” Ed screeches, fortunately not loud enough for the chimeras to do anything but look up briefly from their own conversation.

“With how much you’ve been gazing wistfully at me?” Greed throws back his head and chortles. “I know I’m just  _ that _ sexy, but—”

“You are NOT sexy! Get away from me!” Ed ducks out from underneath the homunculus’ grasp and aims a swipe at his face, which Greed easily ducks, grinning all the while. “And I—I haven’t been looking at  _ you,” _ he continues, faltering as a pink tinge warms his cheeks. “I’m looking at Ling.”

It is definitely the stupidest possible thing he could have said, and he regrets it even before he sees Greed’s eyes light up.

_ “Because,” _ he backtracks, “I’m looking out for him! I’ve got to watch over him while  _ you” _ —he sticks a finger into Greed’s chest— “go running around in his body!! You don’t know anything about me! We’re just teaming up because we need allies, okay??”

“Okay,” sings Greed, and backs off, hands raised in the air.

Ed fidgets for the next couple minutes, pacing back and forth in front of the entrance to the alleyway. This is, again, not the most productive thing to fixate on at the moment, but he sincerely hopes he hasn’t given Greed the wrong idea. Becoming the object of affection of an ancient entity that personifies desire sounds like a special kind of hell, but fortunately Greed is sincere enough that Ed doubts he’s actually been trying to flirt with him. Then if Greed thinks Ed likes Ling? Well… better than thinking Ed likes  _ him. _ Marginally.

The whole thing is stupid anyway. He should probably just forget about it.

* * *

And he does more or less succeed in forgetting about it, at least until the four of them begin to settle down.

Though a little suspicious of Ed’s companions at first, Pinako is more than welcoming. There’s a pang of grief in Ed’s heart that he can’t be here with Al and Winry, but he pushes it down. He’s gotta stop with all this sentimentality. The time will come for that, after all this is over.

But his old room feels too empty—a hollow shell with walls like palimpsests that still bear traces of old memories. Does the feel of a space change as its inhabitants grow and flow in and out? He doesn’t live here anymore. It isn’t the same. He’s a different person than he was when he last slept in this bed. It belonged to someone else; he doesn’t deserve it.

It’s in this state that Ling finds him, sitting hunched on the side of his bed, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Hey!” comes the voice from the doorway, and—okay, with that inflection, it’s definitely Ling. “Could you help me set up the sofa bed downstairs? I can’t seem to figure it out. Thanks—!”

“Oh, fine.” Anything to get him out of this room. Halfway down the stairs, he realizes the strangeness of the situation, and pauses, turning to Ling. “Where’s Greed?”

“He let me take over for a bit!” he replies with a warm smile.

Ed blinks, not quite registering what a unique opportunity this is. “Let? He doesn’t want to be in control all the time?”

Instead of responding, Ling bounds down the rest of the stairway and into what could perhaps be called a living room. It’s small, with bookshelves lining the walls and various pieces of automail strewn about. Apparently this is where Pinako instructed Greed to stay. The sofa stands at the other side of the room, stuck in a halfway state between a couch and a bed. Ling appears to have broken it somehow—it’s partially collapsed, the lower part hanging askew.

Ed lets out a  _ big _ sigh and claps his hands together. Blue sparks light up the dim room as the thing transforms into a simple bed—a proper one, not a fold-out one. If Pinako asks, he can always just change it back in the morning.

“Wow,” Ling whistles, and he jumps onto the middle of the bed, patting down the duvet. “This is more like it! Thanks so much!”

“How did you even  _ get _ it to break so bad in the first place?”

He shrugs. “We don’t have these in Xing.”

He removes his coat and worms his way under the covers. It’s a pretty sizable bed, made partially of a softer version of the green striped fabric that covered the couch. It looks cozy.

“I’m going to sleep,” pronounces Ed before his thoughts can stray  _ too _ far in that direction. “Night.”

But he just sort of ends up standing there, somewhat pathetically, right in the doorway. Both of them surely know just how much Ed does not want to go back upstairs, or sleep in a room by himself in a house abandoned by his oldest friends. Ed grits his teeth and stares straight ahead and tells himself that it’ll be fine, that he’ll go to sleep quickly and it won’t bother him when he’s asleep, will it? And still he does not move.

“Well,” says Ling slowly, stretching out the word (and Ed hates how easy it is for him to be nonchalant in situations like these), “if your old bed isn’t suiting you, this one is pretty big.” And he smiles again, slightly less innocently than before, and spreads his arms invitingly.

Ed, quite frankly, does not know how to feel about this proposition. He decides that the best thing to do is throw his hands in the air and yell, “Are you a fucking idiot??”

Ling is utterly unmoved. “What.”

“Here? Now? Just because?? Did Greed let you take over so you could break the couch and make me fix it and talk me into sharing the bed with you again?”

His expression doesn’t waver, as if nothing at all is wrong. “Did it work? I thought it was pretty good. Greed said I should just ask straight-up, but—”

“No!! You moron!” Ed’s cheeks are absolutely bright red by now; he almost wants to add that this is  _ not _ how you’re supposed to flirt, then realizes that would involve admitting that Ling is flirting with him, which he certainly does not want to do. Teaming up with  _ Greed _ to flirt with him, no less. Or at least talking his headmate into letting it happen. Wow.

“You could at least be nice about it,” says Ling.

Ed doesn’t know how to respond to that one either.

“I’m  _ actually _ going to bed now,” he declares, and stomps up the stairs before he can say anything to make the whole encounter even more awkward.

* * *

Over the next few days, it occurs to Ed that he has made two significant mistakes.

The first, of course, was sharing any sort of intimacy with Ling in the first place. Because it was weird and awkward, and had sent a message to Ling that wasn’t quite what he was going for. The second was, in his conversation with Greed, implying that he liked Ling. Which he  _ hadn’t, _ but maybe Greed had taken it that way, and was trying to set the two of them up? Dear  _ god _ he does not like dealing with people feeling things about him.

The fact of the matter is, however, that Ling feels some sort of way about Ed. A bright smile upon seeing him has come to be one of the clearest signs that Ling’s back in his own body, and that alone turns Ed’s stomach upside down.

Look, it isn’t that he doesn’t enjoy Ling’s company. And if Ling wants to go falling head over heels for him, then that’s probably a compliment. But what the hell is he supposed to do in return? What does he even  _ want _ to do?

Maybe it  _ would _ be nice to, say, hold Ling’s hand, or curl up with him on the couch, or something along those lines. He’s willing to entertain that fantasy as a pure hypothetical. But it isn’t worth the price of having to initiate an interaction, or the inevitable awkwardness that would pervade such a thing. Even the thought of  _ maybe possibly having another crush _ is enough to make him red in the face. Typical. He knows that much from when he liked Winry. And Winry’s no flirt—unlike Ling, she didn’t go out of her way to remind Ed of his crush by grinning too wide or prancing around like an idiot.

Meanwhile, Greed and Ling seem to have come to some sort of agreement about when each of them can be in control. Greed gets the body whenever something important is going on—meetings, scouting missions, conversations with the rest of their allies. Add to that the things that Greed personally finds fun (eating dinner, training for battle, sitting on the roof, arguing with Pinako about why he spends so much time sitting on the roof), and Ling gets very little time in his own body.

The time that Ed and Ling  _ can _ spend together, though—Ed’s gotta admit it’s fun.

Sparring in the backyard is a regular passtime for the four runaways. It’s important to keep in shape, after all, and who knows when an enemy will finally sniff them out? So, once every couple days, Ed goes up against Greed and the chimeras, and Pinako closes all the house’s windows to block out the screams and grunts (but not before yelling to Ed that she won’t be so kind the next time he damages his automail).

The nice thing about fighting Greed is that Ed can go all-out. He’s a homunculus; he needn’t be worried about a few deep wounds or stabs if Ed gets through his armor. Plus, Ed views it as a sort of catharsis. Your begrudging ally is irritating you again? Look forward to the next time you can go beat him up with no consequence! And, of course, there’s a little smug satisfaction in the fact that Greed won’t hurt him nearly as badly in return.

Greed is very much one to use his fists (and claws) in combat, so Ed isn’t getting a lot of practice defending against attacks made with a weapon. To remedy this, Greed allows Ling back into his body to go a couple rounds against Ed with a sword. They steal a tool from Pinako’s workshop and Ed modifies it according to Ling’s specifications (and Pinako’s, who insists he make it blunter than a real sword). Ling’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he watches.

So Ed transmutes the top of his automail into a blade and faces off against Ling on the lawn behind the house. Today, Ling has copied a few points from his former style from before Greed altered his wardrobe—namely, the loose pants and open shirt that puts on full display his impressive muscles. Ed grits his teeth and forces himself not to comment on it, because to do so would communicate that he had noticed at all.

All things considered, it’s an excellent fight. Ling is dexterous as ever, absurdly strong even when Greed isn’t controlling his body. They dance around each other, always aware of each other’s presences. Ling likes to dart in and out, while Ed mostly stays in one spot, sometimes advancing or retreating. For a while they’re nose-to-nose, blades scraping up against each other, and Ed can hear Ling’s hot breath and almost feel the sweat on his chest as he comes closer and closer and closer.

Perhaps Ed isn’t concentrating right—or concentrating too hard, more like, fixated only on Ling’s body and the way he moves, rather than his immediate surroundings—because suddenly his back slams into the side of the house. He gasps, and the split second of being winded is enough time for Ling to pin him to the wall and raise the blade to his throat. His gaze is razor sharp and determined, and it makes something inside Ed’s chest lurch.

It’s the point at which one would usually admit defeat in a normal swordfight, but Ed is no normal fighter. And he absolutely refuses to lose. In one swift motion, he wiggles sideways out of Ling’s grasp and kicks him in the jaw.

There’s a  _ crack. _ Ling stumbles backwards, red sparks dancing across the bottom of his face. At this point, Ed should probably stab him while he’s distracted, but he’s filled to the brim with manic energy, and he rather wants to do something that Ling’s not going to forget. Which is why he leaps up, hooks a leg over Ling’s shoulder, and clings to him like a reverse piggyback rider.

Ling’s a competent enough combatant that he doesn’t topple over, but his attempts to shake Ed away are in vain. Ed lets out a triumphant cry, hoisting his other leg up and pushing Ling’s face into his torso. Now effectively blinded, Ling adopts more of a grounded stance, still trying desperately to pull Ed off him. Ed just tightens his grip. He’s wrapped pretty much his entire body around Ling’s head and shoulders by this point, and the position is awkward for many reasons, only some of them involving core strength.

“Okay, Ed,” comes Ling’s muffled voice. His shoulders shake with laughter. “That’s probably enough.”

Ed rests his chin on top of Ling’s head and smirks, even though he knows his friend can’t see him. “You’re giving up? Already?”

“We  _ have _ been at it for an hour…”

Ed balls his automail fist and starts hitting Ling’s back, earning a couple unenthusiastic  _ ow _ s. “Coward!! Figure something out! Get me off already!” And a split second later, realizing his unfortunate wording, he splutters— “I mean—not like—find a way to—you can just— _ never mind.” _

He untangles himself from Ling and drops to the ground, lying spread-eagled in the grass. Ling doubles over, resting his hands on his knees, practically sobbing with laughter. Both of them are bright red in the face. Ed squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that he won’t pass out from embarrassment.

But when he opens them again, Ling is staring down at him fondly, a smile too gentle for a boy who’s just beat him up.

“Good match,” he says, and extends a hand. Ed takes it and pulls himself up. Ling’s hands are warm and clammy, and the veins on his arms stick out. As soon as Ed’s on his feet, he lets go, and retracts his blade back into his automail.

“I could still use some more practice,” Ed responds, a tad hesitantly, “so maybe we can try again sometime?”

Ling grins. “Absolutely. Whenever Greed lets me.”

“He’d better!”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think he’ll mind.”

* * *

One day, faced with a spot of boredom, Ling decides he’s going to teach Ed “the version of chess we play in Xing.” It turns out to not be very much like chess at all, but Ed is still intrigued. Problem is, they don’t have any of the right kind of wooden pieces. Instead of using chess pieces or household objects as substitutes, Ling goes out into the woods with a hatchet and a whittling knife, and returns in the evening with a crude board and at least twenty tiny, carved game pieces.

“I could have alchemized these for you,” is all Ed can think of to say as Ling proudly presents his work.

“Maybe. This was a lot more fun, though.” Silver armor encases his hand for a moment as he uses the edge of his claw to peel off a section of irregular wood. It gives off the sharp, sweet scent of fresh tree bark.

Ed cracks his knuckles. “Right! Show me how to play! I swear I’ll beat your ass into the ground, Ling!”

“Oh, really?” Ling sets the board between them, staring down at him with a mischievous grin. “I’m excited to see you try!”

Much to Ed’s chagrin, Ling wins every single time. Greed’s competitive streak gets the better of him as well, and he emerges to play a couple rounds, which he  _ also _ wins. Likely helped out by a certain Xingese prince in his head, Ed figures. By his 22nd loss in a row, the sky outside has grown dark, the rest of the crew have gone to bed—and Ed is positively fuming. He chucks a couple of the pieces in Greedling’s face and falls back against the floor with a loud groan (and then a yelp, as his head collides with the ground a bit too hard).

“Thanks so much for playing, Ed!” hums Ling, cheerful as ever. “You’re really getting the hang of it!”

Ed hauls himself up and gives his friend a disapproving glare. “You just have years more experience. I’ll beat you one day!”

He raises a hand to his chin in mock-thoughtfulness. “Hmm. ‘One day’... will that be before the Promised Day, or after?”

_ “Way _ before!!” screams Ed.

“It’s not very hard. You just have to be observant.”

“I’m plenty observant.”

Ling sighs and shakes his head. “Lan Fan was a master of this game. Losing so much to her is what made me great.”

The note of melancholy in his voice sends a shiver down Ed’s spine, especially as he notices the tense with which Ling talks about Lan Fan. She  _ was _ a master. Because she’s gone now. Not dead, no—but disappeared from both their lives for the moment.

“Then,” says Ed, determined to restore the previous upbeat mood, “if I keep losing to you, I’m sure I’ll become a master, too, huh?”

“I’m sure you will.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“I’m not!”

“You are! What, are you teasing me?”

But Ling has begun to giggle. It’s almost a melodious sound, even in its quietness, and Ed actually shuts up just to listen to it. And when it peters out, the silence in the room is warm and full, and Ling’s smile feels like a gentle touch.

No, wait, he’s stupid; Ling  _ is _ touching him—his legs are crossed, forearms resting on his knees, and the tips of his fingers brush against Ed’s left hand. How long have they been this close together? It feels too perfect to be anything but purposeful.

Ed’s face heats up, but he doesn’t move his arm. Instead, he freezes in place, every muscle inside him going taut, as Ling slowly but surely traces his fingers down the length of his hand. Ed does nothing to stop him. So Ling takes this as a sign, and slips his thumb into Ed’s half-curled hand, and squeezes softly.

Ed holds his breath.

However, apparently Ling still cannot go thirty seconds without running his mouth off, because the next thing he says, without a trace of irony, is “Has anyone ever told you your eyes are really pretty?”

“Thanks,” Ed mumbles, blush spreading further across his cheeks.

Again, Ed is no expert in the ways of romance. In fact, he generally tries to resist anything to do with the concept. But if Ling wasn’t flirting before, he absolutely is right now—and that alone floods Ed’s brain with a chaotic blend of nausea and giddiness. This is too fast, he thinks. One minute they’re laughing over a game, and now they’re practically holding hands, staring into each other’s faces like some sort of cliche lovebirds.

And despite it all, it  _ isn’t _ awful.

“Ling,” he tries, voice small and sheepish, “isn’t Greed here too?”

“Mmm? Yeah, why?”

“Don’t you think that this moment is, erm.” Admitting it out loud is its own sort of discomfort, but he presses on. “...Kind of private?”

Ling’s smile curves downwards. “I’m not sure if we’re going to get a truly  _ private _ moment anytime soon.” And, with that amused lilt again: “Besides. Greed says he’s having fun.”

“Shut UP, Greed!!” yells Ed right in Ling’s face, tearing his hands away and stuffing them in his lap. “You don’t get to see this! This isn’t about you!”

Ling’s head tilts, eyes flashing purple as his mouth erupts into a lazy grin. “I’ve never had such a good time being the third wheel. I’m just here to support my friends.”

“We’re not friends!!”

Greed blinks, slightly more taken aback than Ed would’ve expected him to be.  _ “Friend, _ then.”

“Ling isn’t your friend either. You stole his body from him!”

He regrets the phrasing almost immediately, recalling their one midnight conversation, but doesn’t have time to correct himself before Greed replies.

“He  _ wants _ me in here. We’re buddies!”

“I think I’d like to hear that from  _ him.” _

Greed sighs and rolls his eyes as the color drains from them. Ling sits up straighter, wearing a perfectly neutral expression.

“Yeah,” says Ling, infuriatingly casual. “Greed’s okay.”

“But you said—!”

“I know what I said.” His voice is more forceful than Ed expected, effectively shutting him up. “Things like this—they’re difficult. But I don’t mind Greed, really.”

Ed scrunches up his face, leaning closer. “Are you sure he isn’t just telling you to say that?”

“I know we talked about this before. Things have gotten better since then.”

“Really?”

“Ed, I’m not going to lie to you. I’m a prince! I’ve got my honor.”

“What, so you’re just giving up on getting your body back??”

Another unintentional parallel. He curses himself under his breath. The corner of Ling’s mouth turns upward.

“It’s okay. I can live with it.”

Ed takes a deep breath through his nose. He realizes he’s been clenching his teeth, and forces himself to relax. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He’s been leaning too far forward, too—almost all the way across the gameboard. He scoots away, settling back down in his original position. Any moment they’d been having before—the spark has flickered out now. The shadow of Greed looms in the way.

“Well,” he murmurs. He stands up, patting down the sides of his trousers. “Thanks for playing, I guess. I should probably get to bed.”

Ling rises to his feet as well. Ed almost expects him to comment on that statement, but he doesn’t say a word, just nods.

As Ed is leaving, he hears a voice that is not Ling’s calling from the end of the room.

“Don’t worry, Ed,” says Greed with a smile. “I’m sure we’ll all get what we want eventually.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ling gets his body to himself for another night.

Unfortunately, the Xingese board game night is the last time Ed is able to spend alone with Ling for a while. The chimeras have gotten in contact with another ally, and are working to slightly change their plans again. It’s another week or so of running around after that, distracted from personal relationships by the pressing nature of the conflict in which they are all embroiled.

So there goes that chance, Ed thinks after they’ve settled back in Resembool, exhausted. In a way, the new flurry of activity is a much-needed wakeup call. The middle of a governmental upheaval is not the best time to be pursuing new connections, lest you find more loved ones who could be swept away at any moment. He needs to be harder, more objective, stronger willed. Like Kimblee said, right? Can’t afford to be soft. It’s just going to get him killed.

By this point, it’s been about a month since he shared a room with Greedling in that dingy hotel. And he’s seen no signs of the glitch reoccurring—of Ling staying awake while Greed is unconscious. Perhaps it’s just because they sleep in separate rooms now. And if it has happened again, Ling hasn’t mentioned it. Probably for good reason—he wouldn’t exactly want Greed to know, would he. But that doesn’t stop Ed from being curious.

He gets his answer sooner than he expects.

At first, it’s just a rustling noise coming from outside his window. Ed is usually a deep sleeper, but tonight he’s awake enough to notice it—the soft thud, then quiet, hurried footsteps on wet grass.

His adrenaline spikes. It’s certainly past midnight by now; no one should be out. Is it an intruder? A silent enemy, come to wreak havoc while their prey is asleep? Ed jumps out of bed and dashes to the window, pulling open the curtains.

In the dark of the night, he spots a retreating figure with a billowing coat. The moon is a crescent, but it manages to illuminate long strands of silky black hair. Greedling.

What the hell could he be up to?

Ed slips on his boots and runs downstairs, avoiding all the spots where he knows the floor creaks. He’s still in a tank top, and the winter night air is an unwelcome shock, but at least it serves to wake him up a little more. He closes the front door and runs around the back, just in time to see Greedling glance back towards the house.

“Hey!” he calls in a strangled whisper, and Greedling actually freezes, caught in the act. Ed jogs to catch up with him, meeting him underneath one of the yard’s larger trees. Upon closer inspection, he’s surprised to find that it’s Ling’s eyes that gaze back at him, narrowed and fearful.

“What are you doing?” Ed hisses once he’s just a couple feet away.

“I’m leaving,” says Ling.

“What??”

“I’m going back to Xing.”

“Like hell you are! Get a grip on yourself, man! What’s going on??”

Ling exhales. His stance is all tense, feet spread wide like he’s expecting to be attacked at any moment. “Greed fell asleep again. It’s happened a couple more times now, but never for this long. I bet he’s exhausted from the last few days.”

“But you’re not paralyzed?”

“He must be really out of it.”

Ed frowns. His heart has not stopped racing—it seems even quicker now that he’s absorbed this new information. If Ling’s correct, this is indeed a unique moment. An opportunity.

“How are you sure he’s not around?”

“I can tell. I can visualize him, in a way. I tried talking to him, but he hasn’t woken up.” Ling’s face morphs into something halfway between a grin and a determined grimace. “I have my body back. I don’t know for how long, but—I’m not going to waste this chance.”

“So you’re—running off to Xing??”

“Yes.”

“Why!”

“To present myself as an immortal homunculus to the Emperor, and gain his favor, without Greed getting in the way.”

Of course. It’s been his goal all along, so why not go for it  _ right now? _ Ed massages his temples, squeezing his eyes tight. “Man, you really are impulsive. Xing is—I don’t even  _ know _ how far Xing is!! How do you know Greed’s going to stay asleep for all that time?”

“After a while, there’ll be no going back.”

“You think Greed isn’t going to try his hardest to get back to Amestris no matter what? Doesn’t he have unfinished business here?”

“Exactly.” Ling’s jaw is set, brows furrowed.

Ed blinks. “What—?”

“You know Greed. He won’t settle for a country. He wants the world, Ed. And there’s something here in Amestris that will help him achieve that. I’m… not so sure I want to let him try.”

“I see,” murmurs Ed. He takes a step back, considering this together with all he knows about Greed. “But—you were willing to go along with him. You said he was your friend!”

“He is.”

“But now you’re… trying to trick him.”

“We have different priorities. I’m trying to take advantage of this strange glitch in his possession of my body. I haven’t lied to you—I really don’t mind him being here most of the time. I feel like I understand him, you know? But sometimes… I feel like…”

He trails off and doesn’t pick up his sentence where he left it. Ed wants to jump in, to yell at Ling again for all these idiotic justifications. The phenomenon could wear off any moment. Greed could wake up, realize he’d been betrayed. And without Greedling—what would Ed and Darius and Heinkel do without their leader?

But when Ed opens his mouth, all the words drain away as he realizes just how lost Ling looks.

“He’s rubbed off on me, hasn’t he,” Ling murmurs. He crosses his arms, looking down at his shoes. “How greedy. Running away with a philosopher’s stone on the off chance I’ll be able to fulfill my hopes and dreams.”

Ed sighs. What he ends up saying is, “We need you, Ling.”

Ling looks up again, and meets his eyes.

“You’re right; you  _ are _ being greedy! And selfish! Aren’t we all counting on you to help our effort? You—you don’t get to just abandon that. You  _ know _ all the shit that’s going on in this country. Lan Fan, Mr. Fu, all of us are fighting to stop a catastrophe that will affect the whole world. Even Greed! He may be a bitch, but he’s on our side too!” Ed sweeps his arm backwards to gesture at the house behind him. “Are you going to turn your back on your allies? Your  _ friends?” _

Ling’s shoulders droop. His face twists in an agonized misery; he presses the back of his hand to his forehead and averts his eyes, clenching his teeth. “You’re right,” he breathes. “It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair at all.”

They stand there for a long minute. Ed feels as hopeless as Ling looks—yet a relief floods through him as well. Ling’s going to stay. He can be patient, right? Wait until this all is over. And then he can go back to his home country and fulfill his dream.

Huh. That’s right. One day, he’s going to go back. He’s gotten what he wants, more or less. He was always going to be a temporary presence, and this escape attempt just hammers that fact home.

It’s hard for Ed to imagine a future beyond the Promised Day. In part because he doesn’t allow himself to picture a timeline in which he and Alphonse don’t succeed, in which they don’t get their bodies back—or any of the myriad possibilities that are much worse than a simple unfulfillment of their goals. After all this is over, it’s like a part of his life will be over, and there’s a sort of tragedy to that, isn’t there? Even if they get their happily ever after, there’s meaning in the painful parts. The struggle and the growth and the twists and turns of emotions. The feeling of being part of something greater than yourself, a cog in a machine that will change the country as they know it, through blood, sweat, and tears. Perverse as it sounds, he doesn’t want to lose that.

And if Ling is only here for the painful parts—

Ed thinks he wants to make that time count.

Ling looks up finally and straightens his shoulders. There’s a worn look to his face, the lateness of the hour getting to him. “I’m truly sorry, Ed. I don’t know why I even considered that the right thing to do would be to—to abandon you. All of you.”

“I mean.” Ed cracks a smug smile that he’s only half feeling. “If you left us, the journey to Xing would’ve gotten lonely.”

That makes him laugh, actually, and what surprises Ed even more than Ling’s ability to find a little spark of joy in a heavy subject is how youthful the sound is. It shakes off a layer of Ling’s mask of maturity, rendering him as no more or less than what he is—a boy who’s just been caught making a stupid, hasty decision. Maybe he’s more of an optimist than he thought.

Ed doesn’t know what he wants in this moment. If only there were a button to freeze time again and give this scene all the liminality of their surreal conversation in the too-small hotel room. But there’s a ticking clock here—Ed is all too aware of the fact that Greed could rear his head again at any second. And then it would all be over.

For the most part, Ed thinks he’s rather good at making decisions under time pressure. But right now he feels utterly incapable of even considering his options. How could  _ he _ take advantage of Greed’s absence? Not by fucking off to Xing, that’s for sure, but maybe by asking a couple questions.

Before he can form the words, Ling pulls off his coat and throws it around Ed. Ed freezes, and his expression must be full of comic shock, because Ling laughs again.

“You were shivering,” he says, and reaches out and adjusts the collar so the coat won’t slip off Ed’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t,” is Ed’s automatic response. He fits his arms into the sleeves and pulls the coat around him, batting away Ling’s hands. It’s much too big for him; the hem brushes against the tips of the wet grass and the sleeves hang a good couple inches off his hands. Nevertheless, it’s heavy and warm, even more so because Ling’s just been wearing it. Ed hopes his blush isn’t  _ too _ visible in the dark.

“Greed wouldn’t have done that,” says Ling. “He’s not really into sharing.”

“Do you think you’re gonna be able to live with him until you get back to Xing?”

“Yeah.” His reply is casual but confident. “I think so. I  _ did _ say we were friends.”

“Friends, or begrudging allies?”

“Hey, if you look at it that way, the two of us are little more than  _ begrudging allies.” _

“That’s not fair,” Ed fumes, only  _ just _ over the appropriate nighttime noise threshold. “We’ve had—friend bonding time!”

“And I have friend bonding time with Greed all day, every day!”

“It doesn’t count if he’s just piloting around your body!”

“We talk,” insists Ling, grinning. “More than I talk with you!”

“Hey, it’s not  _ my _ fault you got your body taken over! That doesn’t mean we’re not friends, stupid!”

“No,” he agrees, stepping closer, voice all singsong, “it doesn’t.”

They’re about two feet apart, now, standing on the grass together under the big tree. Ed glances back at the house—still and silent, all the lights off. Ling’s arms hang by his sides. It would be a trivial matter to just reach out and take his hand. See how he reacted.

Obviously Ed does no such thing. He crosses his arms and shivers, hunching his shoulders in his overly large coat. “Wish we  _ could _ talk more,” he mutters.

“You can still talk to me while I’m Greed. I’ll hear it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same! Maybe there are things I want to say that I don’t want Greed to hear.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I dunno,” says Ed too quickly. “Some things are just private, you know.”

“Well… we’re in private now.”

The little smile that accompanies his words makes Ed’s heart beat quicker.

“Have you  _ actually _ been flirting with me??” he blurts. And almost regrets it too, but—no, he needs to know this. Even if it’s a stupid question, even if the answer is obvious. Acknowledging it is a step forward in and of itself, right?

“Yes,” says Ling.

“O-oh.” He hadn’t been prepared for such a straightforward response. The red tinge spreads further across his cheeks.

“I’m glad you noticed.” His voice is all cheerful again, filled with that deceptively carefree cadence of his.

Ed quirks an eyebrow and hopes the expression comes off as appropriately judgemental. “It was hard not to.”

“So! How are you feeling?”

“About you?”

“Yeah!”

Now, this would be the perfect moment for Ed to start spewing crap about how there’s been a huge misunderstanding! And he has to go run back inside now for some bullshit reason! But Ling’s grinning face has him paralyzed. He can’t get away from this, not now, not when they’re teetering on the brink of a breakthrough, not when they’re finally alone together. If only he could parse his garbled, screaming emotions and extract an eloquent explanation.

“I—I don’t know!” he cries. “I don’t know what I want and I don’t know what  _ you _ want either! Some sort of tearful confession? What, do you want to ask me out or something? Well, news flash, idiot—we’re fugitives in the middle of a fucking uprising! And you’re a prince of Xing! Is something supposed to come out of this?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Ling puts a hand on Ed’s shoulder, and the sudden contact is enough of a surprise that it momentarily shuts him up. “I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend or anything—”

“—And you’re leaving for Xing after the Promised Day!” It slips out of his mouth unbidden. “Then we’re probably never going to see each other again! And who knows how long Greed’s going to be out—there just isn’t enough time—”

Ling grabs Ed’s other shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “I know. It isn’t fair. But this is the time we have. I like you a lot, Ed. I think we could at least do  _ something.” _

Ed takes a deep breath. Right, right, back to focusing on the present. “Like what?”

It’s Ling’s turn for his cheeks to turn pink, but he smiles along anyway. “I was hoping I could kiss you.”

Ed thinks he might just explode right then and there.

“I, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he begins sheepishly, rather than outright denying the possibility. His eyes dart to Ling’s lips. Fuck.

“How exciting! Neither have I!”

“What! You’re a prince! Don’t you get all sorts of girls fawning over you??” Ling’s muscles alone are enough to make any girl go googly-eyed. Any girl and Ed, apparently.

“I guess so? I’m not really into girls.”

Before Ed can make some sort of stupid quip about that, Ling draws closer and wraps his arms around his neck. And oh  _ shit, _ if it hadn’t been clear before, this just serves to drive home the fact that yes, Ling is fully about to kiss him. And there isn’t much Ed can do to get out of it now.

Like he would want to.

He finds himself standing slightly taller, pressing up onto the balls of his feet, trying to even out their height difference a little. Ling notices, and giggles, his breath hot on Ed’s face.

For some reason, all Ed can think about is how the hell he would explain this to his brother. They’re going to see each other again, and they’re going to catch up, and Ed is going to need to decide what events are important enough to keep in the story of how he and his accomplices prepared for the Promised Day. Does this count as  _ important? _ Is he going to be able to say  _ and then Ling tried to run away but I argued with him until he stayed and then he kissed me _ with a straight face?

“Something wrong?” hums Ling.

“Oh. Uh. Just thinking about how Alphonse is gonna laugh at me for this.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Ling says, and kisses him.

It’s as nice as it is weird as it is exhilarating, which is to say, very much so. Ed is suddenly completely unsure of what he’s supposed to be doing—should he hold his breath? Just breathe through his nose? What does he do with his arms? But he tries very hard to make it not awkward, even though his face is burning.

“Okay,” he whispers when Ling pulls away. His brain is filled with static, like a million electric currents are buzzing through him. “Okay. Let’s do that again.”

This time, Ed puts his hands on Ling’s waist and pulls him closer. Ling makes a noise of contentment, nestling his chest against Ed’s. His touch is gentle and his lips are soft, and he smiles a little when their noses bump together. One of his hands cups the back of Ed’s head and tilts it to get a better angle.

Despite everything, it’s so, so sweet. Maybe this is how he gets time to stand still. Letting his worries fade away and focusing only on the touch of his friend.

But everything good has an end, and for Ed that moment is when he realizes just how tired he is. He still feels pumped full of adrenaline, but his head has begun to ache. He lets go of Ling and closes his eyes, massaging his forehead.

“Why does it have to be so late,” he mumbles.

“You know, my offer from before still stands.”

Ed looks up at him. “What? To sleep in your bed?”

“Yes!”

It’s almost embarrassing how much that sounds like heaven right now. No, scratch that—it absolutely is embarrassing,  _ and _ there is no way in hell Ed is going to say no.

“Don’t people come into your room regularly?”

“Nope! Not since Greed moved in. No one likes a grumpy homunculus.”

Ed considers the fact that Greed is almost definitely going to be awake by the morning, and will know if the two of them have been canoodling. He decides it’s worth the risk.

“Okay,” he says. Has there been a single moment in the last five minutes that he has not been blushing? He doesn’t think so.

And so Ling puts an arm around his shoulder and holds him close as the two of them walk back around to the front of the house. Ed’s entire body is so warm that he barely registers the freezing night air. There’s still that anxiety wavering in his mind—that Greed could wake up and ruin everything—but, well, they’ve come this far without so much as stirring him. So maybe Ed can put that thought to rest.

Then again,  _ why _ is he so anxious about Greed turning up? Because he wants to be alone with Ling. Because he doesn’t want Greed to know about this. He doesn’t want  _ anyone _ to know about this, which is kind of silly, because it’s not like Ling is going to be able to keep a secret from the being who lives in his mind. Even though Greed’s hypothetical presence would only really affect Ling, Ed doesn’t want to feel like he’s being observed and judged.

Compared to the yard, the living room is all lovely and warm. Ed drops his coat on a chair and spends some time rolling down all the curtains while Ling removes his shoes and socks. After Ed does the same, he wanders over to the bed. Pinako had laughed when he’d told her the story of why he transmuted it, and assured him that no one was going to use that couch anyway, so better leave it as a bed for now.

“Thought you were tired?” comes Ling’s voice from the bed, and Ed realizes he’s just sort of been aimlessly staring, a gentle stormcloud of nerves brewing in his head. Cut it out, man! It’s just Ling. It’s just… cuddling with Ling. In his bed. For the entire night.

It’s a little overwhelming, that’s what it is. How can he be so starved and yearning for human contact, and yet, when the opportunity presents itself, he freezes? It’s okay when they’re fighting, when he’s hauling Ling’s ass through an ocean of viscera. And now? He wants it and he doesn’t want it and he doesn’t think he could explain either side.

“You’re okay with this?” he says after a moment. No, no, stupid question. “You… want me here?” Great, even worse.

“Yes, of course I do! I haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Ed could say something about  _ didn’t we used to be enemies, _ or something about  _ I don’t like touching people but also I do like touching people, _ or something about  _ I beat you up the other day and now we’re doing  _ this _ and it’s such a tone shift, _ but instead he takes a deep breath and climbs in beside Ling, tucking himself under the covers and settling down onto the pillow.

He doesn’t expect Ling to kiss him again, soft and happy. Or to respond to his sputtered protestation by wrapping his arms around him and pressing him close to his chest. Or to start suddenly when his skin comes into contact with Ed’s automail arm.

“It’s freezing!” he whispers.

“You’re just weak. My old one was even worse in cold temperatures.”

“But the rest of you is so warm.” His tone is gentle and adoring; he traces his right hand down Ed’s left arm and then tangles their fingers together. If anyone else at any other moment spoke to him like that, Ed would probably blow up at them, or at least give them some snark back. Right now, he  _ almost _ enjoys it. It makes him feel… cozy? Safe?

A funny thing to be, what with the state of the world outside.

Ling’s breathing slows to a lazy rhythm, but his heart still patters as quick as Ed’s. He’s warm too—the heat flows from his chest and his arm and his stomach and all the little places where their bodies connect. Ed tries to keep his metal leg away from Ling’s bare feet, but they end up bumping into each other once or twice as the two of them shift positions, and Ling makes a little noise of surprise at that. It’s cute, Ed thinks as he snickers into his friend’s shoulder.

“Ling?”

“Mmm?” The hum sounds in his throat, tickling Ed’s forehead.

“If, uh, the next time Greed goes unconscious for a while… can we do this again?”

“Of course. We could even do it when Greed isn’t unconscious.”

“Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

“Not for me.”

Ed snorts. “He doesn’t tease you about it?  _ Ohh, Ling, you’re in bed with a boy…” _

Ling laughs at Ed’s awful Greed impression. “A little. But he’s really been rooting for me ever since I first realized I liked you. He’s invested in me getting what I want, after all.”

It makes Ed blush again to be reminded that this  _ is _ something Ling wants. Funny, linking it to greed—thinking of touch as a commodity. But he knows Ling well enough to tell that isn’t quite how he conceptualizes it. It’s not about quantity or quality. It’s just about feelings and closeness.

And oh wow, that’s awfully sappy, isn’t it. Ed smiles against Ling’s skin, and his friend, in response, hugs him tighter.

* * *

  
He’s awoken by a squawk of  _ “Why are you in my bed again, brat??” _ and has the immense satisfaction of slapping Greed across the face with a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! this was a lot of fun to write - i love ed and ling and their dynamic.  
> don't forget to leave a comment if you feel so inclined!


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